


Christmas Zombies

by MorganaNK



Category: Inspector Lynley - All Media Types, Inspector Lynley Mysteries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27903634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorganaNK/pseuds/MorganaNK
Summary: It's Christmas morning in the Lynley household
Relationships: Barbara Havers/Thomas Lynley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	Christmas Zombies

**Author's Note:**

> Property of Elizabeth George and the BBC, no copyright infringement intended

I opened my eyes then quickly shut them again to stop the room from spinning.

“What the hell did I drink last night?”

“Zombies, and lots of them.”

I sat up rapidly and immediately regretted it.

“Zombies???”

“Please lower your volume to a dull roar, my head is barely holding itself together as it is.”

“Sorry, but… what?”

“You and I went out with Stuart and Winston last night, remember Christmas Eve drinks.”

I lay back down and groaned, “oh God.”

“He won’t help you.”

“What were we thinking?”

“We weren’t.”

“Any idea how we got home?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Carefully I turned my head to look at the clock on my bedside table. “Oh shit!”

“Barbara, please.”

“It’s eleven am.”

“And?”

“Your family are due for lunch at one.”

“Damn!”

“We could offer them pizza.”

“That would go down as well as toast with a side helping of clean knickers would.”

“That happened ONCE.”

“I keep telling you, it’s one of my fondest memories.”

“Which, in the great scheme of things, we don’t need to be discussing right this second.”

“Can we not argue about this?”

“You started it.”

“And now I’m finishing it. I’m sorry.”

“And I’m sorry for snapping.”

“We’re both sorry, but sorry isn’t going to get lunch cooked.”

“I know, and us arguing isn’t going to get the turkey cooked in two hours either.”

“Nor is us lying in bed.”

“I don’t know if I can face food.”

“Do you want to call my family and tell them that we’re too hung over to host?”

“Not particularly.”

“Neither do I so we’re going to have to put a brave face on things.”

…As we came down the stairs the smell of roasting turkey hit me. I gagged, then swallowed deeply.

“Am I imagining things, or can you smell turkey cooking?”

“I thought perhaps I was suffering from phantosmia.”

“Now is not the time to show off your extensive and expensive education.”

“Can we not start arguing again.”

As we entered the kitchen, we were surprised to find saucepans of prepared vegetables, and a note tucked under the edge of one of them.

_‘Sir, I started lunch before I headed to my mother’s. The par boiled potatoes are in the fridge. Everything else is ready to be cooked when you are. Merry Christmas to you and Lady Barbara’_

Sighing, I slumped down on a stool at the breakfast bar. Tommy leant against it next to me.

“Whatever we’re paying Denton, it’s not nearly enough.”

“Not even close.”


End file.
